This morning at the studio, Alex was cleaning out the air filters ("ionizer", he just corrected me with a didactic tone, ever the doctinaire) with a white towel, and a most unsavory smudge appeared. It was, how should I put it, the poop from the room. Essentially, these filters had accrued weeks or even months worth of particulates, if air could defecate, this would be its excrement. Wait, air can defectate, and did, and the fudge was on Alex's towel. He's been ill, did I mention that? He's been under the weather for about a week. Knowing that, I felt emboldened to issue a challenge. As he cradled the soiled towlette in his anemic hands (normally strong, but weakened from unretting affliction), I tossed out, "I'll give a hundred dollars if you LICK that". To my chagrin, without hesitation, his tongue was lapping at the foul skid marks as though it were honey milk. Not once, but twice -for effect, almost sexual- he ran his tongue up and down the length of the tainted rag. I've never seen such impetuous and risky behavior from Alex. Moments later, he was grammacing over the trash can, $100 richer. Well done, my fearless leader. Well done.